


A Butcher's Work

by Cryptogen



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Other, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptogen/pseuds/Cryptogen
Summary: Alloran is struggling to fit in to the post-war world and takes up a post as Ambassabor to the UN
Kudos: 11





	A Butcher's Work

The Earth Year 2005, November the 9th

My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass Andalite Ambassador to Earth, though you most likely know me as the former host of Esplin 9466, Visser One. The Abomination. It is, perhaps, how I will always be known now; eclipsing even the infamy that I have earned on my own terms through my own failures, the Butcher of the Hork-Bajir.

If you understand those two epithets then perhaps you can appreciate why I have chosen to remain here on this planet, 82 light years from the one I should call home. The Andalites do not know what to do with me, how to act around one so tainted, so fallen. I fought almost the entire war on the opposite side, to most of them my name was a curse, and the possibility of being face to face, tail to tail, with me, was one of fear. None of that was my doing, but that failure, it seems, only serves to make them more uncomfortable, the idea of a duty that can never be fulfilled, a debt to the People that grows with every horror that you are unwillingly complicit in. Home exists only in the past now, it isn't on the planet where I was born.

My home now is my duty. A noble sentiment, I'm sure you agree. A trite sentiment, one vague enough to mean anything. My crimes may go overlooked by my victorious compatriots who concern themselves with my troubling failures and years of slavery, but they will always be close to me. I do not expect most other Andalites to understand what duty means to me now. My duty to the Hork-Bajir, to the other victims in the recent war, demands that I dedicate myself to peace with all the energy that Visser One employed when using my body for war. And so it is that I find myself installed in the Andalite embassy to Earth, a place where I can do good, can undo some of the horrors perpetrated by both Andalite and Yeerk.

It is difficult to explain exactly how the ritual of greeting the day differs to me, whether from my long captivity, my familiarity with this new planet, or my estrangement from my old one. The experience does not feel quite the same as before, but then nothing does.

There is also the matter of the city. Humans are a city building species and our embassy is situated in a place called South Brother Island in a large human conurbation called New York where their planetary council – the United Nations – meets. Conducting your morning ritual surrounded by millions is an odd and claustrophobic feeling. Prior to the invasion, the United Nations was an organisation of little real power, something that Esplin had always opined but I had found confirmed later. It had served as a forum for international discussion and the setting of guidelines and laws between the humans' geopolitical factions, but lacked enforcement, and much more of their politics took place externally to it. It struck me as an inefficient system and Esplin as a weakness.

This morning I was also distracted by the two human females observing me.

I concluded and strode to meet them as they watched from the edge of the lawn

<Cassandra of the Animorphs, Melissa Chapman, greetings>

“Cassie please,” replied the Animorph, once a bitter foe but one I had found had a rare capacity to differentiate me from Esplin entirely, which only meant that she could judge me for my own past. “Good morning Ambassador Alloran, Mertil told us that we could find you out here. I hate to keep asking, but has there been any more information on _The Rachel_? The UN and Yeerk authorities haven't heard anything, but...” she left the sentence unfinished, perhaps knowing my mind would furnish the possibilities there better than she could

<I fear not, though I doubt that even in this role I will be a priority for High Command to inform. They have been very defensive of their missions and intelligence since the war ended, they fear demilitarisation>

She slumped slightly, and I cursed, another of Esplin 9466's loose ends had now either claimed this human's friends, or at least thrown their fate into question. Not my actions, perhaps, but ones I could nevertheless not escape. I gestured for them to follow me and began a circumference of the Dome – the island is mostly landscaped into an isolated Andalite environment, but part of the embassy complex remains the Dome of a decommissioned Dome Ship. Walking the perimeter helps me to focus and the Dome itself keeps the city from encroaching too harshly on Andalite sensibilities.

<We have made requests through the Skrit-Na and Ongachics who have license to travel Kelbrid Space. They may be able to find out where your friends have ended up. From my own memories, they have always proven very resourceful>

“Thank you, Ambassador” replied Cassie, “I expect we'll be seeing you at the Session later? The Administration have been very eager that you be seen, apparently. I'm not sure that they really get how difficult this is for some of us” She looked at Melissa

<Indeed. And Melissa Chapman, how is your father? Will he be attending the Session?>

The second human raised her head, I believe that the variety and colour of Andalite grass was unfamiliar to her. I have spent enough time with humans to recognise her discomfort, this was a subject that she had not wanted to discuss, at least with me.

“He's improving. Ambassador. He no longer screams whenever an Andalite is on the news. For us that's progress. I don't think a packed auditorium discussing alien politics would be very good for him but he did give me a speech that he wanted read.”  
  


<I cannot begin to apologise for his mistreatment during the war, Melissa Chapman, if it might mean anything to him, I would have you let him know that his sacrifice to protect you was very noble, a service to duty that an Andalite would aspire to>

“Thank you, I will, he... you.. anything involving you is difficult for him. Because of Visser One. Esplin 9466. But he did ask me to let you know that he hopes one day to be well enough to meet you, you were prisoners together and couldn't even get to know each other or offer each other any comfort. That's why we're doing this”

<I understand, I have come to accept that my life will be lived picking through the ruins left by Esplin 9466.> I turned a stalk eye to Cassie the Animorph,  _she_ understood that I had more to be ashamed of than what I had been forced to do by the Yeerks, but her expression remained unchanged, and instead she simply laid a hand on Melissa's shoulder.

“We will see you later Alloran, I hope that there's something hopeful in the Session for you. I think we're really making progress building something positive out of the ruins the Yeerks left behind. You and Melissa are both proof of that.”

The Special Session of the United Nations organisation over the next three days was a ritual of great importance to the humans. Their official reports had been released already, but, as any Andalite would understand, the official presentation, speeches, and discussion marked an important moment in history for the human people.

The auditorium was not well suited to Andalite bodies, certainly not to having so many so close together. With myself were my wife Jahar, a deputy – Almanar-Tristollic-Menan, and the aide Mertil-Iscar-Elmand along with his _shorm_ Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad. Gafinilan's new body was not as physically imposing as the one that he had previously occupied, but in these cramped confines that was probably to the good. He and Mertil had chosen to remain here on Earth once the embassy was established, I suspect that, like me, Mertil would have found the homeworld a less welcoming place than when he had left, afterall. For myself, once I might have been disgusted to serve with a _vecol_ , even one who had given his tail in battle. But the rest of Andalite society sees me in much the same way as they might do him these days, and that prejudice feels almost childish after the horrors of war and servitude to the Yeerks.

Most of the aliens also looked uncomfortable despite the humans' attempts to alter the room to accommodate them. I recognised a representative from the Hork-Bajir World Seers Council, two Mak, a gaggle of Nahara, the Anati ambassador with a full guard, and a lone Desbadeen had made their way down from the Embassy Ship in orbit, and there were no fewer than four Ongachic ships represented here. The Leeran Ambassador was represented on a viewscreen, their abilities still tend to make other people nervous around them.

Morning was given over to the physical reconstruction efforts on Earth, one city had been wholly devastated in the final battle with the Yeerks and numerous skirmishes had broken out at Yeerk controlled facilities across the planet when the invasion became open. The new technologies inherited from the Yeerk invasion force had also started to revolutionise the humans' civilsation from what I could see. They were excited by the prospect of abundant clean energy, Zero Space communications, and space exploration. Their enthusiasm bouyed my natural optimism, it was intoxicating. This is how Seerow felt, this feeling was his weakness, the cause of my own imprisonment and yet I could almost forgive him in that moment.

The afternoon was given over to other aspects of what was occurring on Earth. Cassie the Animorph and Toby Hamee gave a rapid update on the Hork-Bajir colony, and on the Taxxon nothlits, and then Mertil made his speech, which was as eloquent as it was impenetrable. Next came Melissa Chapman, a representative of one of the human organisations dedicated to rehabilitating former Controllers and their families. Hers was not the only speech, though it was the first given the prominence of her father in the Yeerk hierarchy.

Hendrick Chapman had been an important lieutenant to Esplin 9466, a man who had voluntarily allowed himself to be infested to save his daughter who was standing here in front of me. My tail sank lower, out of sight, as I recalled how often my body had come close to killing him for some failing. How many other Yeerk underlings and their innocent hosts I had been the unwilling executioner for. I must have shuddered because Jahar laid a hand on my arm. Duty demanded that I listen to these stories, and to the monumental efforts that were being required simply to make their lives bearable again. Many had killed themselves after the war, many had lost mates, children, livelihoods, as the people around them came to discover that they no longer knew them, or perhaps never had.

Many of the vignettes were positive. The humans desired this to be a triumphant few days afterall. But the pain was still there, an aching reminder of what I once was

The next day was easier. This was the turn of the various alien ambassadorial staffs to give their updates. The Nahara – the Yeerks' first conquest – were first, then the Mak, and the Sstram. Their worlds had been thoroughly ravaged by the Yeerks and their rebuilding efforts were only just beginning, the fact that they had even managed to maintain embassies this far from their homeworlds was a surprise. They had been technologically stunted when the Yeerks had come across them, both Esplin and my former self had though of them as weak, irrelevant, they hadn't the resources to resist the Yeerks nor the numbers to provide a formidable host army.

Inevitably the Hork-Bajir's turn came. This was what I had awaited with apprehension. I would be called out for my murder of their kin, right here, in front of millions of watching sapients. My crimes would be laid bare and I had willingly put the blade to my neck by being here to target as Duty demanded.

It never came. The Seers' representative, Hes Natnan, opened by praising their Earthbound colony. He was not as eloquent as Toby Hamee, who had grown up a diplomat, but his words were carefully chosen to reinforce the bonds of kinship. Should the Hork-Bajir fail to find a welcoming home on Earth, then the homeworld would still be there, and humanity would be forced to work hard to keep its ally on side. Instead of castigating myself and the Andalite military, the seer simply talked the room through the recovery efforts on their world.

With a population of such limited cognitive capacity, it had proven difficult, but “plant trees” was a task that the Hork-Bajir could embrace with aplomb, and for all their shortfalls in abstract reasoning they had excellent memories for plans. The Yeerk Pools were being drained, their occupants having now been returned to Yeerk worlds as per Treaty obligations. The mines were closed. The forests were being nursed gently back to health. I had seen that world turned from a garden to a pillaged husk, and now that its gardeners were free, I would have the undeserved honour of seeing the damage reversed. There was even a discussion of cloning the Arn, resurrecting the species which had once shared the world with its current occupants, though I suspected that this had been raised by the Yeerks themselves as a peace offering.

This is what the audience had arrived to see, the once face of the Yeerk Empire, their shock troops, their killers, now free and discovering their own place in the Galaxy for the first time.

When he stepped down without calling me to answer for my deeds, I was lost. My tail untensed, which itself caused a wave of panic – was there a threat, had I been about to kill again, I couldn't stop it, my stalk eyes whirred around the room. No. Those things were in the past, there is no war, I can control my tail, there is no killing to be done, this is my body and I decide what it does, I am safe to be around.

After some kind words by several species more peripherally involved in the war, the Leerans and Anati closed the day. After the Hork-Bajir though, I felt drained, and excused myself to the Dome immediately as the Session closed.

Although I wished for solitude, it is difficult in the embassy compound, we can travel to more isolated places, of course, but the easiest way to do that would be to morph, and that I was loath to do.

Gafinilan had, it seemed, decided to join me after the evening ritual. His and Mertil's companionship was one that I knew was the subject of great attention and admiration on the homeworld. Two _shorms_ losing a tragic battle and dedicating their remaining time to caring for one another appeals to our sense of social and military duty. And their being on a different planet allowed the other Andalites to overlook the more uncomfortable or unconventional aspects of the pair that might have drawn criticism at home.

<Friend Alloran, you appear troubled> to the point, as usual <I cannot imagine that tomorrow will be an easy day for you. If you wish to take some time away from this crushing press of buildings once it is done, Almanar and Mertil will be able to maintain the embassy.>

I turned a stalk eye to him <Friend Gafinilan, it is not the future that troubles me so much as the past. Today the Hork-Bajir should have used their platform to demand justice for my actions thirty years ago, but they didn't. Duty demands that I meet the consequences of my crimes, but if they do not challenge me, how am I to make reparation?>

<You sound almost as if you are angry at them for not accusing you>

<Ha! I believe I am> I felt shocked to admit it; an unworthy emotion, to envy your own victims their anger towards you

<You cannot be forgiven, Alloran> Gafinilan turned both stalk eyes to me, their intensity at odds with the relative serenity of his main eyes gazing out to the water, <Mertil would be able to phrase this in a more soothing way but I am stuck with my own more direct mode. Your victims are dead, only they could forgive you and they will never be able to. Every Hork-Bajir alive has reason to hate you but they have seemingly chosen not to, I believe we underestimated them as a species>

<I too, another reaslisation arrived at far too late> And one that I had come to for the shamefully petty reason that my own disdain for the Hork-Bajir had been mirrored in Esplin 9466 and I had hated sharing even an opinion with him

<Then it would seem to be your duty not to waste their tolerance, and to help them build a better future, that is why you are here, is it not? Not simply to escape the homeworld?>

I paused <I appreciate your counsel, my friend. Though, as one exile to another, I do feel much better for leaving the homeworld behind>

Gafinilan exhaled loudly, perhaps he had spent too long with humans to start laughing in their style <I must admit that I find custom there every bit as stifling as this city sometimes, there is freedom here that we could never be afforded at home.>

He shifted on his hooves <Did you realise that even my own story is no longer mine? It belongs to the People, and the People have decided that I am a tragic hero whose war ended with the destruction of the Dome ship and who dedicated his life to protecting an “unworthy” _vecol_ > the word dripped resentment <while battling his own illness. And that I retired as a nothlit to continue caring for poor helpless Mertil. That I am the cause of Mertil's injuries, or that he is more deserving of love and companionship than any other Andalite I know, or that I could have used those months thinking that I was about to die to fight the Yeerks? If I wanted _that_ to be my story they would have none of it>

<It seems,> I replied gently as we turned back to the water, <that we are both lucky then to have found a second home here, my friend>


End file.
